


At A Lady's Service

by Ludovica



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Femdom, Footplay, Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-28
Updated: 2012-12-28
Packaged: 2017-11-22 19:14:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/613294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludovica/pseuds/Ludovica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the presence of the Lady of Light Herself, even mighty Dwarf princes are bound to kneel...</p>
            </blockquote>





	At A Lady's Service

**Author's Note:**

> Once again a fill for the [Hobbit kink meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/702.html?thread=257726#t257726)

She was taller than any woman he had ever seen, tall even for an Elven woman. Her body was gentle slopes and white plains, hairless skin lucent in the moonlight that fell through the high windows into her chambers. Nothing but the streams of her lustrous hair was veiling her naked glory.

But even with nothing but moonlight and golden tresses, and a little white ring on her finger to adorn her body, she was majesty incarnated. It did not matter that the white chair she was sitting on was carved from white wood and not marble, and it did not matter that it did not have a dais or mystical engravings – her use of it made it a throne.

She was an ancient queen, a goddess, ever to be, and he was only a pathetic mortal in her incandescent presence.

Her finger hardly moved when she motioned him closer, but this minuscule stir of her sculpturesque appearance was enough to make his body heat up. The remnant of his pride, a tenacious spark of obstinacy, made him straighten himself, and he looked up at her face, the look in his face that of defiance, of an unspoken challenge. He was as naked as she was, except for the hair that covered his body, and his erection gave away far more about his current state than he would otherwise have been willing to admit, but nevertheless Thorin Oakenshield would not stoop so low as to kneel to an Elven witch on nothing but a motion of her finger.

Not as long as a spark of pride remained beneath his adamant Dwarven skull, at least.

Yet her light blue gaze seemed to penetrate through even the thickest rock. It pierced his soul like an arrow, like lightning, illuminating and seeing to his very core.

His feet moved against his will.

The marble white hand moved again, the ring on her finger reflecting the moonlight like a diamond. She tilted her head forward, hardly noticeable, and he fell to his knees. Her legs were closed and slightly bent to the side, but now she moved a delicate foot to his leg and ran the tips of elegant toes over his knee.

“Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin and grandson of Thror…” Her voice was melting icicles, a warm breeze on a yet cool spring day… The murmur of golden leaves and silver currents. “Prince of Durin’s folk by birth, great leader and future King under the mountain…”

Her long, white legs parted in front of him. “I want you to proclaim your reverence to me, son of Durin.”

Her sex was pale pink, soft, flushed folds of flesh between moonlight-colored thighs, glossy and enticing like sweet honey. Thorin swallowed his hunger and lowered his head, kissing the side of her soft calf. He could feel a slight tension in her flesh when his beard rubbed over the soft skin, but soon she let go of that tension again and rubbed her leg against his face. He kissed her knee with utter veneration, then he ran his lips up the inside of her thigh, silky soft and smooth like polished opal.

The first taste of her was salty and sweet and soft wetness on his lips, on the tip of his tongue as he opened his mouth in the kiss he was bestowing upon her. He closed his eyes and kissed the white pedals that surrounded her wetness, then he ran his tongue along their moist underside, pushing them apart a little bit. He tilted his head, and his lips encompassed her two inner folds. He gently suckled them into his mouth, before he let go of her again and started to run the tip of his tongue through the valley between her folds, up to the little pearl where they met. He heard a low sigh when he kissed the little bud of her clitoris, and her body undulated against his head.

He drew back a little bit and reached up with one hand, to pull back the hood veiling the center of her lust – but a long-fingered, strong hand in his hair made him pause. He looked up into light blue eyes, cold despite the wideness of their pupils.

“You will not use your hands, Dwarf”, she whispered, and even though her voice was low, it seemed to fill the whole room, as threatening as a blade held to his throat. Thorin could hardly hold back a shiver as he put his hand back to the floor where he had braced himself before.

His own erection was already standing hard and throbbing between his legs, pleading for any sort of touch, but a quick look up into the icy eyes of the Elf-witch made Thorin quite certain that ‘not using his hands’ also included other uses for his fingers.

So he tried to fight his own arousal down for the moment, trying to ignore the persistent little voice that kept mocking him for his abasing subservience to an Elf, of all people.

And an Elf like her, at that.

But the sweetness of her hidden wetness was enough to distract his thoughts of that sort of self-abasement. He had not done this to any woman in quite a while, and he had missed the taste, he realized, had missed the feeling of wetness around his lips, the smell and taste of a woman’s lust, the sensation of her juices soaking his beard…

She had put her legs over his shoulders now, and he was surprised by their strength as they pulled him closer to her sex. She was so wet by now that her juices were dripping into Thorin’s beard when he kissed her clit again. He licked up her slickness, slurping on the little hole at the lower end of her folds. She moaned lowly, and again one of her slender hands found its way into his messy hair, pulled it closer until he nearly choked in her warm lap. He started to lick frantically, sucking and lapping at her slick skin. His head felt strange, light, dizzy… He struggled for air, fought against her hand until he was finally released again.

He panted lowly now, filling his lungs with cool air as he looked up to the Elf’s face. She was smirking, or nearly so – one corner of her mouth was twitching suspiciously, and her light eyes sparkled with amusement.

“What a skillful mouth you have, King of Dwarves… Your years of travel have taught you well…” Her hand ran over his hair, then over his jaw and finally rubbing his soggy beard. Her fingers glistened when she pulled them away, and she ran them between her own legs, pulling the hood over her hidden pink pearl up and rubbing it with a low sigh. He was mesmerized by the motions of her nimble fingers, running through her folds and scooping up some of her delightful wetness.

He had already anticipated what was to come, and when she held her slender fingers out for him to clean, he did so with utter abandon, sucking the long digits into his mouth, licking the space between them clean. He kissed her palm when she didn’t immediately pull her hand back, and was rewarded with a gentle stroke of his chin before she straightened herself in her seat again, sprawling with her legs spread wide, yet still as elegant and majestic as she had been before.

“What a good dog you are”, she whispered, and Thorin gasped when he suddenly felt pressure between his legs. He looked down to see delicate toes rub over the slick head of his fully erect cock, and he keened when she pushed his erection against his abdomen, rubbing up and down with her perfect, slender foot. A grunt fought its way out of his throat, even though it made his ears burn to make such primitive noises in the presence of such a divine being, debasing himself by showing her how common he was in the end, under all of his gloomy conduct and shallow majesty.

But she didn’t seem to mind – her smirk just grew a little wider, a little more mischievous, and her motions got faster as she rubbed the ball of her foot over his precum-slicked head. His thoughts didn’t seem to belong to him anymore, so bewildering were the sensations her touches and her smirk and her smell caused in his body.

But just when he was sure that her touch would finally send him over the edge of sanity, the sensation of her soft skin against his hard cock vanished. He looked up to her, despair filling his mind, a yearning similar to his hunger for the treasures of his home, but darker, licentious, ferocious. Her eyes met his, and icy chills ran down his spine – the look in her eyes was pure power, a dominance he had never experienced before, a force that made him cower under her gaze.

When she noticed how his posture changed, her eyes lightened again, and she smiled at him leniently as she lifted her foot to his lips. His own precum made her skin glisten in the moonlight.

“Lick me clean, dog”, she ordered, her voice calm, yet still permeating every nook of the room with its supernatural sonority. Every fiber of his being struggled against her unfathomable power, but in the end he couldn’t resist her call, and he leaned in on her foot, kissing the gently bent arch. His still soggy beard rubbed against her instep, and a strange spark of satisfaction ran through his body when he noticed how her toes curled for a second.

He closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly to further his access to her slicked skin. Soon he was lapping up his own liquid, suckling one on of her toes whenever he had the chance, running his lips along the most sensitive parts of her sole and the ball of her foot, until she finally grabbed his hair again and pulled his head away.

“Very well…”, she said, and her smile caused an urgent, straining sensation between his own legs. “Now finish your former task.”

She spread her legs again, and Thorin’s head was near immediately back between her thighs. The wet folds of her sex had cooled slightly – or was it just that his own body had grown hotter meanwhile? He couldn’t tell, and he did not particularly care as he licked up the smooth cleft between her inner lips. He rubbed the tip of his tongue against her clitoris first, then lapped on it a few times. Her hand was still in his hair, and he could feel how her grip grew more intense as he started to suck on her hood, head slightly tilted, tongue pushing and swiping and rubbing until he could feel her buck up into his mouth. Her juices were dripping off his beard by now, and he could hear low moans pearling from her lips that drove him half insane with lust.

She pulled his head a bit farther up, and he opened his mouth more, lapping and sucking as much of her sex as possible. His tongue got wilder, frantic even, and her moans, sweet as the songs of nightingales, filled the whole room, urgent, dark, yet never pleading – even in such a state she was still commanding him with her voice, her hands, her body. Her legs were wrapped around his broad neck again, her hands in his hair pulling him even farther into her lap, her moans and sighs spurring him on. She straightened her posture and leaned forward as her body started to jerk by its own volition. He could feel her soft abdomen against his forehead, her white body engulfing his head near completely. He was locked between her legs, unable to move even an inch, with her strong hands pulling his hair even harder as his tongue sped up one last time, his sucking becoming more vigorous, until finally she threw her head back in a sparkle of golden locks that he could perceive just out of the corners of his eyes, and with a louder, ecstatic moan every muscle of her body seemed to tense. Thorin was certain for a second that she would crush him as he felt the incredible physical power that was unleashed on him in the moment of her orgasm.

She stayed like this for a few moments afterwards, the Dwarf’s mouth still on her sex, her legs still around his shoulders and neck, her hands still entangled in his long, messy hair… Then she finally breathed a satisfied sigh and leaned back again, releasing Thorin from the grip of her hands and legs.

She looked down on him, a pleased, ever-so-slightly drained look on her celestial face. She was breathing harder than before, her small, round breasts moving to the heaving of her chest.

Thorin could hardly look at her without coming on the spot.

“You really did well”, she breathed. Again she moved her foot between his legs, but this time she didn’t touch him, but just put her foot down on the marble floor. “You have my permission to bring yourself to completion, dog.”

He stared up at her, half incredulous, half mortified. He wasn’t quite sure if he understood what she was telling him to do. Did she really want him to… in lieu of a better word, to hump her leg? Like an animal? For a moment he contemplated not complying to her order, but then he looked up at her body again, at the wet, pink skin between her legs, the soft, small breasts, her still hungry, sparkling eyes… He grunted lowly as he lowered his head and started to rub up against the Elven Lady’s leg, against that incredibly soft, hairless skin, cool against his burning body. He groaned as he started to rut against her faster, lost in his all-consuming lust, until he finally spent himself, half on her skin and half on the marble floor.

Panting lowly he looked up at her, a strange kind of guilt gnawing on him as he slowly came down from his orgasm. She looked him over with sober eyes, still with a bit of an amused spark, but more contemplative than before.

He stayed on his knees while she scrutinized him, back slightly hunched from exhaustion and humiliation, his beard still damp with her cooling juices, his spent cock thick and flaccid between his legs…

“Are you just going to sit there all night?”, she asked, and her voice was a silver dagger in the cool silence that had spread between them. “You have soiled my skin, don’t you think you ought to right that?”

Thorin felt heat rise to his head. Had she not ordered him to do so herself? But her crystal glare made him hunch a bit more in the end, and finally he leaned down and started to lick his own viscous seed from her snow white skin. The taste made him shudder, but he made his best effort to not let her notice as he sped up a little bit.

He made sure that every tiny drop of his liquid was thoroughly cleaned off of her before he sat back again.

She stretched her leg to his side, inspecting the state of her skin (and giving Thorin another exquisite view between her legs), then she put it back on the floor and smiled, running her hand through his hair a last time.

“You have my permission to go”, she whispered, and without another word he stood up, bowed again before her, and turned around to take his cloak from the little table next to the door. He opened the door and turned around a last time before he closed it, casting a last glance at the goddess he had worshipped just a minute ago.

She was still sitting in her chair, majestic like the queen she was, her beauty illuminated by the moon and the stars. She looked him straight into the eyes, and with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, she tilted her head to him.

Then the door fell shut, and Thorin felt as if he had just awoken from a dream. But he quickly shook his head at this insolent thought, and ran his fingers through his still damp beard.

What a foolish idea.

After all, he could never have dreamed up a being of such terrific perfection as the Lady Galadriel.


End file.
